Keep Them From Harm and Injustice
by BitterEloquence
Summary: G1: When Ratchet swore to heal all, he did not take his oath lightly. The first time he met the likes of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, he knew they'd be trouble. Unfortunately, Sunstreaker did not count on what one feisty, loud-mouthed medic could do to him.


Dedication: Lots of adoration for yankeesailor both for squeeing with me, being a tireless beta and for the title.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, and yes, I'll return Ratchet. Just lemme cuddle with him until he starts throwing wrenches at my head. XP

* * *

_How can blood be our salvation?_

_And justify the pain that we have caused throughout the times._

_Will I learn what's truly sacred? Will I redeem my soul?_

_Will truth set me free?_

The Truth Beneath the Rose

The first time Ratchet had clapped optics on the Twins, he'd known immediately that they were going to be a pain in his aft. The medic had barely set up shop in Iacon before the two warriors showed up in the medbay. The yellow one glared menacingly at the various medics and radiated an air of supreme arrogance.

Ratchet noticed immediately that the big yellow bot had placed himself defensively in front of the red one who held his nearly severed arm close to his body. Sparks snapped from shredded power cables and energon poured freely down the disabled limb. The boxy medic noticed that first. Then he realized the med bay had gone deathly quiet and a palpable tension filled the air.

'_Who are they?_' He silently sent to Wheeljack, the engineer that had been helping him create a new leg assembly for the Autobot scout Hound.

Wheeljack glanced over at the two primary colored mechs. The light panels on the sides of his face blinked dimly, conveying his apprehension clearly even though half of his face was covered in a battle mask. '_Those are the twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. They end up here at least once a week for various injuries. A bunch of battle-crazy hellions on and off the battlefield--don't make optic contact with the yellow one._'

Ratchet's features twisted into a scowl and he shot an impatient look at Wheeljack. '_You make them sound like they're a pack of turbo-wolves._' What bothered Ratchet most of all was that none of the medical staff were stepping forward to address the still-sparking and damaged arm. He wasn't sure if such lack of motivation was from fear or disdain, however, and he squared his shoulders resolutely. "Can I help you?"

The big yellow one immediately turned icy blue optics on Ratchet. The faint and intermittent flickering warned the medic of the mech's erratic mood. "Fix him." Grudgingly, he stepped to the side but he never wavered in his harsh stare at the white mech.

Fighting down a flash of irritation, Ratchet pushed the yellow one out of the way so he could get a good look at the wound. "You managed to almost completely rip your arm off, very talented," he muttered dryly. "Come with me."

"Well, I aim to impress." The red one managed a weak grin. He grimaced faintly when he jostled his arm as he slowly followed the red and white medic to an empty table.

"I'm not impressed," Ratchet frowned as he leaned closer to get a more magnified look at the other 'bot's arm. "We're going to have to replace the entire socket you know." He probed at the side of the mech's neck until a panel popped open. One fingertip opened to reveal a tiny needle attached to the end.

Behind him, Ratchet heard the hiss of air circulating harshly from the yellow bot. Turning his head, he shot a glare at the bigger warrior. "You. Out." The order was brusque and no-nonsense.

"Don't you give me orders, doc. You're new so I'll let it slide this one time. Next time I won't be so nice." Silicon and metal twisted into a nasty sneer.

"Hey, Sunstreaker, just calm down, he's trying to-" Wheeljack cut off when the melee warrior turned that venous glare on him.

Stiffening almost imperceptibly, Ratchet turned his attention back to his patient's neck and inserted the needle into the port. Almost immediately, the pain sensors stopped screaming and the red mech shuddered softly.

Once his patient seemed to relax slightly, Ratchet turned around to glare sharply at the other twin. "You will remove your aft from my med-bay or I'll give you a matching wound so you and your brother can accessorize, soldier!" The (in) famous Ratchet temper was flaring up hot and fearlessly. He had faced off against more menacing looking warriors and lived to tell the tale.

His opponent recoiled in surprise before a lethal snarl curled his lips. Large fingers clenched into a fist and the various spectators waited breathlessly to see if the new medic would loose a limb or two to Sunstreaker's vicious streak.

"Sunny, it's fine." The mech's twin muttered tonelessly. It was obviously the chemicals that had been released into his system were kicking in because his optics dimmed to a hazy color. "You wait outside…"

"But Siders…we don't _know_ him!" Sunstreaker protested heatedly.

Sideswipe just smiled blearily up at his twin and listed slightly on the bunk. "S'fine…I'm sleep now." And with that, he literally keeled over and hit the bunk. He was out like a light.

The yellow warrior turned to glare venomously at the medic. "What did you do to him?" He snarled low.

"I gave him a sedative of course. You don't expect me to operate on him while he's conscious and capable of feeling every suspension cable being pulled tight, did you?" The boxy medic even had the gall to shake his head in obvious irritation. "Now get out of my medbay. You're distracting me." Ratchet growled and imperiously turned his back on Sunstreaker so he could center his attention on the now unconscious Sideswipe.

He missed the murderous look on Sunstreaker's face and the way he coiled himself as if to pounce on the upstart medic and turn him into scrap-metal.

"Sunstreaker!" His name cracked through the air like a whip. That sharp voice had the wrathful yellow twin freezing as not-quite-sane blue optics turned to the severe-looking mech that stormed into the med-bay.

"Stay out of this, Prowl," he grated out harshly.

The black and white mech seemed utterly unconcerned with the barely suppressed hatred on Sunstreaker's face. The yellow twin always got this way when his brother was being treated by an unknown mech. Unfortunately, Sunstreaker had managed to piss off, maim or outright terrify the rest of the med-staff and now no one wanted to work on the warriors.

Prowl had meant to warn their latest medic about the twins but had been so buried in his own duties that he never got the chance. He'd half-expected to come down and find Sunstreaker had torn into their new medic and was mildly surprised to find Ratchet staring the warrior down fearlessly.

"Stand down, Sunstreaker." Prowl ordered. His expression was grim and severe. The tactician moved forward to try and surreptitiously put himself between Sunstreaker and Ratchet. Prowl had gained the respect of the twins so Sunstreaker was unlikely to attack him. But he'd go for Ratchet if given half a chance.

"Stay out of it this, please." The red and white mech murmured. He'd stopped the sparks and trickles of energon running from Sideswipe's arm. Now that he had that wound stabilized, Ratchet turned around sharply on his heel and sized the yellow mech up.

Sunstreaker just glared right back with pale, flickering optics. So much rage, so much hate radiated from this one.

Unimpressed, Ratchet walked right up to the taller mech until he was easily within arm's reach. Sunstreaker stiffened and all but vibrated like a wire wound too taut. Then, quicker than the optic could follow, one of Ratchet's massive hands snaked up and he yanked Sunstreaker down via the cables and struts of his jawline.

An audible gasp went through the suddenly silent medbay. Sunstreaker tried to struggle and found his body unresponsive from the neck down. Impotent rage filled the warrior's face but he could not talk because of how Ratchet's fingers were buried in the cables and wires of his neck.

"Now you listen to me, Sunstreaker." Ratchet growled. "Do _not_ frag me off. This is just one of about ten ways a medic can disable your body type. And if you give me anymore slag I'm going to demonstrate every single one of them on you." His face was a mere handbreadth from the handsome mech's.

"Umn…Ratch…" Wheeljack tried to put in hesitantly.

"I don't give a steaming pile of slag about whatever screw-headed alpha games you wanna play around the base. You can strut around like some king of the mountain for all I care but you will _not_ come into **my** med-bay and start tossing orders around. And so help me Primus if you get some fool-headed idea of interfering with me when I'm working on a patient I'll personally hand you your head on a platter." His voice had risen slowly until it was a quiet roar. "Do. I. Make. Myself. **Clear!?!?!**"

Ironhide and any other drill instructor would have been _proud_of that dressing down. Prowl found himself impressed and he rocked back on his heels so as to not draw any unnecessary attention. His respect for the new medic was growing in leaps and bounds. It had been too long since they had a medic who had the grit to do more than just stand behind the front lines and heal. None of their current med-staff had the nerve to make mechs like the twins behave and, the warriors just walked all over them.

The tactician made a mental note to bring this little matter to Prime's attention. Give him a little seasoning and Ratchet might just be a good candidate for CMO in a vorn or so. That is…if he lived that long.

"You're full of slag." Sunstreaker snarled once Ratchet shifted his hand enough to free his vocalizer. "I know how you medics are! You don't give a scrap about Siders or I. You just wanna get us out the door so you can turn your attention to the real patients."

Ratchet shook him sharply. "I will treat whoever comes through that door. I don't give a frag about your ego or your lack of gratitude but you will not insult me by implying the medics here don't give until they bleed to keep mechs like you and your brother online."

"Frag you!" The rebellious yellow mech got himself another shaking for his troubles. "I know you medics. You're just lying to impress the brass." So much anger in one so young.

Seeing the pain and mistrust in the young mech's face sent a shaft of pain running through Ratchet's spark. He'd seen countless young 'bots like this. They ran half-wild and feral through the underbellies of their society these days. No one cared for them; they were invisible to the masses yet so obviously in desperate need of just a little love and compassion.

The anger faded from Ratchet's optics as a brooding expression overcame his features. "Ah, lad. That's not what a real medic does. And I'm sorry if that's how you and your brother have been treated."

Sunstreaker had been expecting many things: a sharp blow, more angry words that sent uncomfortable whispers of doubt running through his CPU, but not an apology. Contrition was not what he was prepared for so he refused to look at Ratchet. His discomfort radiated from him in palpable waves. Nearly a vorn of battle-hardened hatred and bitterness faded briefly to reveal a much more younger and vulnerable looking Sunstreaker.

The arrogant, violent warrior was gone and a pensive young mech hung from Ratchet's fingers. He did not continue to tear into the medic or try to struggle, he just stood there hanging almost comically like some turbowolf cub that had resigned itself to its fate.

When his apology was met with silence, the boxy white medic fought back a frown and reconnected the wire underneath Sunstreaker's jaw. "I'm not like the others. Both you and your brother will always get treated the same in this medbay, I swear to Primus on that one, boy." He growled gruffly. "But you will stay on your best behavior. You lay another finger on any of the staff and me handing you your head is the least thing you'll have to worry about."

Cobalt dark optics narrowed with obvious suspicion and defiance. "I don't have to lis-"

"When you're in _my _med-bay you most certainly will!" Ratchet snapped impatiently. "Otherwise you get your shiny little aft kicked out into the hallway where you won't interfere."

Strangely enough, no one tried to correct Ratchet when he proclaimed this to be 'his' med-bay. Prowl noted that development with a calculating look but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Hmph. Whatever." Sunstreaker grumbled and crossed his arms across his chest. "Just fix him." The yellow twin moved to his brother's side but carefully stayed out of Ratchet's way.

With one last glower, Ratchet turned his attention from one warrior to the other. Once the free show seemed to be over, a hushed sort of calm spread through the med-bay. The talk was quiet, more subdued, but peacefulness stole across the medical ward once more.

Prowl quietly made his way towards Hound with the same predatory grace that made up his name. The tracker looked questioningly up at Prowl when he approached. He wasn't exactly known to be the most social of mechs even at the best of times. "Please tell me you got a recording of that."

Hound's optics brightened momentarily in shock. There was no mistaking the mischievous smile curving the corners of Prowl's lips however. And the scout found himself smiling back. "Of course." He agreed readily with a lopsided grin.

"Excellent, see to it that I get a copy?"

The wounded mech chuckled softly and nodded. "You'll have it by the end of the day."

"Good. My thanks." The black and white clapped a hand to Hound's shoulder briefly before excusing himself from the med-bay. There was no reason for him to stick around now that he knew Sunstreaker was not rending their new medic limb from limb.

All in all, not a bad way to start a cycle. Feeling the strange and out-of-character urge to do something really silly like whistle, the highly amused Prowl made his escape of the medbay and walked back towards officer country. He couldn't _wait_ to tell Optimus and Jazz about _this_. Without realizing it, a wide, predatory grin broke across Prowl's face. That borderline sinister expression had 'bots stepping out of Prowl's way.

It was never a good thing when an officer smiled like that. A grinning and amused looking officer was never a good thing.

Especially when it was an officer like Prowl doing the grinning.


End file.
